


Can't Wait To Consecrate This Wondrous Mess

by graceling_in_a_suit



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Feminine Harry, Feminine Louis, Fluff, M/M, Nail Polish, this is about as sweet as a mouthful of sugar fight me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 17:17:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15490788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graceling_in_a_suit/pseuds/graceling_in_a_suit
Summary: Harry wants to paint his nails. Louis has nail polish. It's a match made in heaven.





	Can't Wait To Consecrate This Wondrous Mess

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a Wordplay prompt challenge that a group of us are participating in for the prompt "polish". To read the amazing fics that were written by the others on this prompt, [click here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/polish/works), and to see all fics written as part of the challenge, [click here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/wordplay_fic_challenge/works) or find the masterpost for this year’s challenge [here](https://wordplayfics.tumblr.com/post/175608230403/wordplay-2018-every-week-a-prompt-is-chosen-using).
> 
> Pls keep in mind that, while I do not attend University in the UK, any inaccuracies present can stay bc idc.
> 
> @B: love u hope u like it babe there's nail polish and cute boys so... :*
> 
> Title is from "Won't You Come Over?" by Devendra Banhart. <3

“I think I want to try painting my nails,” Harry said. It was two in the afternoon, and he and Niall were sprawled out in their dorm, pretending to study.

It had been about thirty minutes of silence, only interrupted by the soft sound effects of Niall’s fruit matching game that he refused to admit he played.

The words felt lighter than they should have as they left Harry’s mouth, considering the fact that they’d been trapped behind Harry’s lips for about four months now.

He was only in his second semester of University, and he’d barely even been brave enough to start growing his hair out, let alone _accessorise._  

Niall made a considering noise without looking up. “What colour?”

Harry paused. Quite frankly, he hadn’t gotten that far yet. All he’d figured out was _this shouldn’t scare me if I want to do it and it doesn’t hurt anybody._ And here Niall was, asking about colours.

“Umm,” Harry said, wide-eyed.

Niall glanced at him. Then, he locked his phone and sat up. “If you want,” he started, the same tone of voice he used when he tried to talk their dying cactus back into health, “I can give you Louis’ number.”

Harry frowned. He was sure Niall had mentioned someone named Louis before, but he was fucked if he had any idea what he had to do with nail polish. “Who?”

Niall smiled. “I’ve told you about him before, right? My mate from my first semester music theory class? He’s proper wicked.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but why is he relevant to me wanting to paint my nails?”

Niall snorted. “Only because he’s got the biggest fucking nail polish collection I’ve ever seen. Here, look,” he tapped on his phone for a second, then twisted it towards Harry.

It was a photo of a bookshelf—the same one Harry could see in the corner of their dorm. Just a boring, standard-issue wooden set of shelves. Except the shelves in the photo were absolutely _packed_ full of every shade of nail polish imaginable.

“What…” Harry trailed off, grabbing Niall’s phone and zooming in to get a good look at all the colours. His mouth was watering, oddly enough.

Niall nodded proudly. “Yeah. Lad works at the chemist on campus or something, gets ‘em all half off. Didn’t ask why he felt the need to collect so many, but I’m sure he’d let you borrow some if you wanted. I’ll text you his number. He’s a nice guy.”

Harry looked up at Niall with pleading eyes. “Um, yes. Please. That would be lovely.”

Niall stood up from the bed and pressed a soft kiss to Harry’s head. They’d only been rooming together for eight months, but they were already quite affectionate.

Niall walked to the kettle they’d rigged up in the corner and flicked it on. He fiddled with his phone as he waited for the water to boil, and Harry almost jumped when he felt his own phone vibrate against his leg.

He fished it out of his sweatpants carefully, staring at the innocent string of numbers Niall had sent him.

The real problem was, Harry had no clue what to say.

After humming and hawing for about ten full minutes, he decided on the direct approach.

_Hiiiiii. My name is Harry, I'm Niall’s roommate. I mentioned that I was interested in painting my nails, and he gave me your number hope that's not creepy!_

He sipped the tea Niall had prepared for him as he impatiently awaited the mysterious Louis’ reply. It came through only a few minutes later.

_Hi yourself, mate! Good to hear my reputation as Polish Queen is getting around haha. Did you want to borrow some or??_

Harry hid his face in his hands. It was the 'or’ that did him in; he was now dead of embarrassment. And also from how cute Louis sounded.

He gathered himself.

_Um yes sorry I did want to borrow some if that's ok?_

Louis’ reply was much prompter this time. _No worries! I'm just in room 331 feel free to pop by anytime today or tomorrow :)_

Harry panicked. “Niall!” he hissed, showing him the phone. “He invited me to his room!”

Niall rolled his eyes. “Stop panicking, Hazza, I told you he's a nice lad.”

Harry started pulling shirts out of his wardrobe. “That's _why_ I'm panicking, Niall,” he snapped, pulling on one of his nicer floral numbers then ripping it off again when he decided it was a bit too fancy. One thing was for sure, the sweatpants _had_ to go.

“Harry,” Niall started slowly, “you don't even know what he looks like.”

Harry paused, head sticking out of a baseball tee and skinny jeans hanging from one leg.

“That's true,” he replied. “Is he fit? Please don't tell me he isn't just so I'll calm down.”

Harry buttoned his pants and watched Niall make a strange pinched expression. “Objectively? Yes. He’s very fit. But he also gives great hugs, which I would argue is a _much_ more important attribute.”

Harry crossed his arms. “Well now I don't want to go over to his room, you've sold him too well.”

Niall threw a pillow at him. “Go! Get your nails done so you can feel pretty!”

Harry blushed. “I—I mean—”

Niall shot him a quieting look. “It's ok, H. Really.”

Harry turned away to finish getting ready. He didn’t feel like waiting very long; he knew if he didn’t go now he’d chicken out.

He gathered up his curls into a tiny bun on the top of his head; it was still quite short, so most of his hair was left loose above his shoulders. It got the curlier bits out of his face, at least. They were annoying as hell in this in-between stage. He was still churning over Niall’s words as he made his way down the hall. Room 331 was a floor above them, and Harry’s soft brown ugg boots made slapping noises on the harsh concrete of the stairs as he climbed.

He'd decided to go for a more casual look; black jeans and his soft lavender sweater.

He licked his lips nervously once he arrived at Room 331, taking in the little drawing of a skateboarding unicorn that had been stuck to the door.

He knocked timidly. Perhaps he should have texted first? Would that have been more polite?

He was saved from his worrying by the door being pulled open.

Louis was… a literal _angel._ His soft brown hair fell perfectly across his face, his arched brows complimented his cheekbones, and his eyes were the most peircing shade of blue. Harry’s brain had already ground to an ultimate gay stop at his face alone, and then.

Then he noticed that Louis was wearing a crop top and low-riding Adidas sweatpants.

Harry was carving his tombstone in his head— _here lies Harry Styles; he died from opening Pandora's box and gazing upon the forbidden fruit of beauty within, causing his skin to melt off like in Raiders of the Lost Ark—_ when Louis spoke.

“Y’alright, mate? Can I help you?” His face was creased in a polite sort of puzzlement, and his voice was higher and scratcher than Harry had expected. It was also considerably more Northern.

“Umm, sorry,” Harry mumbled out, shuffling his feet. He regretted pulling his hair into a half-bun, if only because he now didn't have anything to hide behind. “I'm Harry? We texted?”

Louis’ face lit up, as simple as the switch of a lightbulb. “Harry! That was fast. Come on in.”

He stepped away from the door, gesturing grandly around his room. It was a little on the messy side, but Harry was charmed more than anything else. There was a laptop sitting on a desk, plastered with stickers of various punk bands. Above the desk was the set of shelves from the photo Niall had showed him.

In the picture, they'd been organised into a perfect rainbow. Now, they were a right mess. It settled something in Harry's stomach that he hadn't known had been churning in the background, to see that Louis obviously used them alot.

“So, Harry,” Louis said, parking himself on his mattress and sprawling regally. “Which ones do you wanna borrow? Feel free to go nuts with it, babe. I've got _plenty_.”

 _“_ Yeah,” Harry laughed, moving over to inspect the collection. He idly fingered a couple of red bottles, still overwhelmed with the choices.

“Have you ever painted your nails before?” Louis asked gently. Harry shook his head, not turning.

He heard Louis stand from the bed and approach him slowly. “Would you like some help? I know they can be quite scary at first, but I'm big and strong. I'll protect you."

Harry snorted. He could tell Louis was trying to break the ice, provide some comforting banter so Harry would loosen up a little. He relaxed his shoulders, turning at last.

“I haven't actually, um. Painted my nails before. Help would be lovely, if it's not–”

Louis was already waving him off. “Don't worry about it, mate. Here,” he said, reaching over Harry's shoulder and plucking a bottle from the shelf. “How bout this one?"

It was a soft lavender polish, almost the same shade as Harry's jumper. Harry felt a grin travel across his face. “I love it.”

Louis hummed, tucking his lips together in an odd purse that, to Harry, seemed like he was swallowing down a smile.

“Alright. Take a seat, then, Curly,” Louis offered, pointing towards the bed.

Harry ducked his head and stumbled over to it. He sat down and looked up at Louis unsurely.

Louis laughed softly and padded over to him. Harry was hypnotised by the way he moved, so casually camp in an effortlessly beautiful way. He hadn’t been kidding that he was strong, though; Harry could see defined biceps (covered in tattoos) peeking out from the sleeves of his crop top. Harry had no fucking clue how he was even real.

Yet, there he was. Existing in the same room as Harry and helping him paint his nails. He took Harry’s left hand and settled on the bed next to him, crossing his legs. Harry’s eyes traced the delicate lines of his ankles, trying not to think about how soft Louis’ hand felt in his own.  
  
“Sorry if, um,” Harry said, shifting a little. “Sorry if my hand is sweaty.”

Louis looked up at him through his eyelashes, which didn’t fucking help Harry calm down at all. “It’s alright, babe, just relax.”

Harry nodded. He took a deep breath. Louis splayed Harry’s hand over his calf, organising his fingers in a gentle way. He twisted the cap of the polish off expertly. Harry was mesmerised by the opaque liquid as Louis spread it across his nails with even strokes.

“It’s gonna look sick, Harry,” Louis soothed.

Harry smiled at him. “Thank you so much for helping me with this, Louis. I’ve wanted to paint them for ages, but I. Um. I guess I was scared what people would think.”

Louis nodded in understanding. “Not gonna lie, mate, I’ve had some sour grapes in the past say some shit, but I’ve also had more compliments from ladies and gents alike than you can shake a stick at, so,” Louis laughed. “Just don’t let it get to you, hmm? If you wanna feel pretty and have pretty nails, then you fucking well should.”

Harry marvelled at how easy Louis made it sound.

“Give me your other hand, now, love,” Louis asked before Harry could organise his thoughts enough to reply.

Harry did as he was told, examining the now-painted nails of his left hand. It did, in fact, look _sick._

“Blow on them a little so they dry, yeah?”

Harry giggled, then blew. Louis pinched his thumb, laughing a little as well.

“After they’re a bit more dry I’ll put a topcoat on so they don’t come off as easy,” Louis said, ducking his head down to concentrate on filling in Harry’s pinky.

Harry was at once overcome with the compulsion to press a kiss to Louis’ hair, soft and sweet-smelling and right in front of his face as it was. He swallowed and looked out the window instead. It was an awful, rainy day. Manchester at its finest.

“All done!”

Harry startled a little. “Oh! Uh.”

“Those ones dry yet?” Louis grabbed at Harry’s left hand and poked an experimental finger to his thumbnail. It smudged the polish a little, but none came off.

“This’ll only take a second, love,” Louis said, already reaching for the bottle of shiny topcoat on his bedside table.  
  
Harry nodded. “What are you studying, Louis?” he felt the need to ask.

Louis looked at him in surprise. “Drama. I’m gonna be a teacher.”

“That’s really cool. I thought maybe it was nursing, coz you’re so, like, good with…”

Louis’ mouth twisted fondly. “Nervous people?”

Harry nodded, blushing.

Louis hummed and started applying the top coat. “Me mum’s a nurse, that’s probably where it comes from.”

“Are you close?” It probably wasn’t an appropriate question to ask someone you’d just met, but Harry wanted to know everything about this beautiful, brave boy.

Louis shot him a questioning look. “Yeah, actually. She’s my best friend.”

They was he said that—defensive and determined—made Harry think he’d been given shit for that in the past. Harry just smiled soothingly. “That’s nice. I’m close with my mum, too. She actually, um. Encouraged me to paint my nails. So.”

Louis’ face broke into a wide smile. “That’s lovely, Harry. Make sure you send her a pic of these, then. You’re done.”

Harry looked down at his nails, now coated in shiny lavender polish. They looked so beautiful. And they were _his._

His eyes moistened a little bit, and he blinked rapidly. He had no idea why he was reacting this way, why this all felt like _so much_ but in the best possible way.

“Thank you, Louis.”

Louis poked him in the stomach. “None of that, now, lad. It was my pleasure. Here,” he stood, grabbing a few bottles from the shelf. They were various shades of pink, yellow, and blue. “Take these, yeah? Try ‘em out.”

Harry accepted the gift reverently. “Thank you. I’m sure when I try it’ll be way shitter than this, though,” he wiggled his perfectly painted fingers.

Louis tilted his head to the side. From his position on the bed, sitting in front of a standing Louis, Harry was reminded quite viscerally of the smooth, biteable skin of Louis’ stomach that was on display. He swallowed.

“In that case,” Louis started, grinning. “Feel free to come back anytime, I’m happy to paint your nails again. If you wanted.”

Harry almost choked. “Yes! Please. That would be great.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome, Curly. Now go and flaunt your nails, will you?”

Harry stood, smiling so wide his dimples were sure to be on display. “Okay.”

Louis shoved him towards the door playfully. It didn’t feel like he was being gotten rid of, oddly. Harry understood that Louis genuinely just wanted him to show off the nails.

“I’ll see you soon, I guess,” he said, halfway out the door.

Louis grinned and waved cutely. Then, the skateboarding unicorn was in Harry’s face, doing its sick little kickflip.

Harry looked down at his nails. He smiled.

 

                                                                                                  

“Awww, they're chipping a little!” Niall grabbed Harry's hands and pulled them up to his face. Harry shushed him, looking around the quiet library. 

Niall just waved him off. “Are you gonna do a different colour next?”

Harry blushed a little, pulling his hands back against his chest. “I mean,” he started, “I haven't really thought about it.”

It was a blatant lie. For the past week, all he’d been able to think about was the gentle way Louis had painted his nails, the way they shone in the light, the look of then as he typed out his assignments, they way they made him feel…  _ pretty. _

He liked to feel pretty. More and more these days, he was branching out. Brightly coloured silk headbands, floral shirts, floral pants, heeled boots. He'd even bought a nice sundress online, but he didn't have the courage to wear it outside yet. He still liked his more masculine clothes, of course, and watching football with the lads and all of those  _ manly  _ things, he just. Liked to feel pretty, too, some of the time.

He’d only seen Louis once since he painted his nails. On Monday, Harry was walking back to his dorm from his contracts class—studying law was starting to feel more and more like a massive mistake—when he caught a glimpse of the lad on the student lawn. He was sitting in a patch of the thin sunlight Manchester had been blessing its inhabitants with lately, guitar in his lap and a circle of friends around him. He was a good hundred metres from Harry, but he could still hear the bell-like sound of his laugh travel across the lawn. Harry thought for a second that the sound would echo in his head forever.

But now it was Thursday, and Niall was looking at him patiently.

“I guess… I'd like to go red, this time,” Harry said slowly. 

Niall grinned. “Nice. You gonna ask Louis to do it again?”

Harry coughed awkwardly. “Do you, um. Do you think he would?”

Niall shot him a flat look. “No, definitely not. It's not like all he could talk about when we met for coffee on Saturday was 'your cute friend with the dimples and curls, is he single?’”

Harry hid his face in his hands. “Fuck off,” he mumbled from between them.

Niall kicked him under the table. “'Fraid not, lad. You're stuck with my annoying ass for the rest of the year,” he cackled. 

Harry lifted his head to glare at him. “You're not annoying, you're wonderful,” he said fiercely. “Even when you're making shit up.”

Niall quieted down a little. “Thanks, Haz. But I'm not bullshitting ya. He was genuinely quite  _ charmed  _ by you. His word.”

Harry pursed his lips. He unlocked his phone carefully, then snapped a pic of his chipping nails. 

He texted it to Louis with an accompanying crying emoji. He awaited the reply impatiently; how Louis responded would determine if Niall was right about him having a shot.

_ Oh no babe!! Time for a new coat.  _

Harry frowned. He was typing out an answer to the soft rejection when another text came through.

_ I'm free tonight if you wanna pop by? :) _

Harry grinned. “Yayyyyy,” he whispered, showing Niall. If he was expecting an 'I told you so,’ he didn't get one. Niall just shot him a supportive thumbs up.

 

                                                                                                  

 

This time when Harry knocked on Louis’ door, he was prepared. He’d put his nicest shirt on, done his hair up in his nicest scarf, put on his nicest cologne, and he'd baked. It was just caramel brownies, but he'd had a couple already and they were definitely Louis-worthy.

Louis answered the door much quicker than last time.

“Harry! Hi,” he breathed. 

Breathing was something Harry was currently unable to do, because Louis was looking soft in a red sweater and jeans and his eyelids were decorated in gold eyeshadow. 

“Brownies,” was all he could muster, shoving the box in Louis’ direction. Louis raised his eyebrows, but accepted the container.  

“For me?” he asked, with poorly contained glee.

Harry nodded mutely. 

Louis leaned against the doorway, ankles hooked and a smitten expression on his face. “Well, I’d already planned on asking you out on a date, but now I think I'm gonna have to ask you to marry me instead.”

Harry choked. He was sure he looked ridiculous, eyes bugged out and a hand to his heart like an eighty year old man. 

Louis smirked a little a his reaction, but Harry could see a hint of nerves in his eyes. 

“Yes! Yes. I will,” Harry managed, coughing. “I would love to.”

Louis grinned. “Get married or go on a date?”

Harry had no idea how to put 'both’ in a way that wouldn't make him sound insane.

“Umm.”

Louis took pity on him. “How bout we just start with me painting your nails, hm?”

Harry nodded gratefully and followed Louis into his room. 

Maybe he could bring up the marriage thing again a little later. 

They spent the rest of the evening feasting on Harry’s brownies and swapping embarrassing stories in between coats. (Harry even tried painting Louis’ nails, which was only a success because Louis was so encouraging, not because he didn’t get polish everywhere, which he  _ absolutely _ did.)

By the time they called it a night, the butterflies in Harry’s stomach had calmed down into something much more grounded, something that felt comfortable. 

He was even brave enough to sneak a kiss to Louis’ cheek before taking off down the hallway. Louis’ laughter followed him all the way to the stairwell. 

 

                                                                                                

 

“What’s he so nervous about?” Liam stage whispered to Zayn. The two boys were hanging out in Niall and Harry’s dorm, a common enough occurrence since their room was just next door.

“Harry’s got a date!” Niall answered gleefully. 

Zayn made a whooping noise. Liam just started clapping.

“Alright, bloody hell,” Harry called, head still stuck in his wardrobe as he tried to make up his mind on what to wear. “You don’t need to rub it in that I’m eight months single.”

“Nooo, we didn’t mean it like that,” Niall laughed. “We’re very proud of you, aren’t we lads?”

“In a non-patronising way, yes,” Liam answered. Then, he tilted his head. “Non-patronising? Am I using that right?”

Zayn, the token English major, just shrugged. “Sure.”

“Who’s the lucky boy, H?” Liam asked, shaking off the confusion. 

Harry pulled on his favourite rolling stones shirt. Louis liked music, right? Probably. 

“His name is Louis, he collects nail polish, and he’s my soulmate,” Harry supplied, rooting around for a jacket that might go with the outfit. 

“Ahhh,” Liam said. “Your soulmate. No wonder you’re nervous.”

Harry pointed at him manically, vindicated at last. “Yes! Exactly!”

“Stop it, Liam, you’re making it worse,” Niall groaned. He turned to Harry with a stern expression. “Soulmates aren’t real. He’s just a nice lad, and you’re a nice lad, and you’re going to have some nice dinner together. No dramas, no epic fantastical romance plotlines, no panic attacks. Please and thank you.”

Harry crossed his arms, a frown carving itself into his face. As much as he’d been mostly kidding about Louis being his soulmate, he couldn’t help but be genuinely offended. He was gearing up for a truly scathing reply (or, more realistically, a passive aggressive reply that went nowhere towards expressing his discontent) when there was a knock at the dorm door. 

The open dorm door.

Where Louis was standing. 

Shit. 

For starters, Louis was wearing a sheer black shirt paired with tight jeans made from a glittery pink material. The colour perfectly matched both the eyeshadow and nail polish he was wearing. The expression on his face was one of pure fondness. 

“Hiya, Harry,” he said. “Lads,” he nodded to Niall, Zayn and Liam. “I’m here to steal your girl.”

“Hey!” Harry whined, finally snapping out of it. “Not anyone’s girl.” He pouted.

Louis raised his eyebrows. 

“Not yet, at least,” Zayn muttered to Liam. 

Louis pointed at him. 

“Alright, enough, we’re leaving,” Harry rolled his eyes, grabbing his wallet and keys and stuffing them into his trousers—high-waisted woolens in a soft brown shade. He ushered Louis out the door, trying not to bark out an embarrassing laugh at the way Louis twisted his body around Harry’s to wave goodbye to the lads. The position meant Louis was leaning heavily on Harry’s arm, and when the door clicked shut behind him Harry took advantage of that fact to pull Louis into a tight embrace. 

“Hello, you look gorgeous,” he mumbled into Louis’ hair. 

It had already been a couple of weeks of them hanging out before they’d managed to set aside an evening for their first official date. Harry was a tactile person, and Louis was a tactile person, and they’d basically just been alternating between dancing around each other in flirty awkwardness and straight up cuddle-piling. 

It suited Harry just fine. Apart from the fact that he’d quite like to officially be Louis’ boyfriend, something he was hoping to bring up tonight. 

Louis squeezed his arms tight around Harry’s neck, which should have felt suffocating. It didn’t. It just felt… safe.    
  
“So do you, darling. Very pretty,” Louis whispered back. He pressed a kiss to Harry’s dimpled cheek.  

Harry pulled back, creating some distance between them. They had dinner reservations—actual reservations at a restaurant neither of them could really afford—and he would be damned if they were late because Harry couldn’t keep it in his pants for ten minutes. 

Or, more aptly, keep it in his  _ heart_. 

“Ready to go?”  
  
Louis linked their hands together—nails matching, though Louis hadn’t told Harry that when he’d insisted on doing Harry’s yesterday—and squeezed. “Of course.”

 

 

_ The End. _

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated, but I also print them out and glue them to my wall like a manic detective. So.


End file.
